


Sexploratorium (closed on Sundays)

by mysterymistakes



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: (kinda), Aftercare, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Camboy Ashe Duran | Ashe Ubert, Camboy Felix Hugo Fraldarius, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, M/M, Oral Fixation, Praise Kink, Sex Toys, Size Kink, fuck machines, this is... distressingly horny
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-05-07
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:07:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23996494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mysterymistakes/pseuds/mysterymistakes
Summary: “And as sexy as you are, I don’t think it’s a get-rich-quick scheme, more a get-less-broke-in-the-immediate-future plan.” Felix glares at him but says nothing, and his butter knife assaults the pancakes. “It’s Claude’s idea, anyway, so blame him.”Felix is presented with an interesting financial opportunity.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Claude von Riegan, Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 23
Kudos: 284





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hi hello! welcome. thank you for joining me here today. this is incorrigibly horny have fun reading

“Absolutely not.” Felix says. Over the rim of his coffee mug, he glowers at Sylvain, who is sitting on the other side of the diner booth, leaning on the table with his fingers steepled and an evil grin on his face. “I do not care how much money you will make. I would rather attend Dimitri’s thesis defense again every day for the rest of my life than play a part in the dumbest get-rich-quick scheme I have ever heard.” Sylvain leans further forward, crossing over onto Felix’s half of the table and grins wider, unrelenting. Felix stares back, blank and undeterred. He sets down his coffee and pulls the half-eaten plate of blueberry pancakes out from between Sylvain’s elbows. He drizzles some syrup over them. Sylvain is still grinning at him. He shoves a bite into his mouth. “No.”

“Oh, come on!” Sylvain drops his hands onto the ugly boomerang laminate with a thud. “You’re a camboy, Felix, and besides, you haven’t even let me tell you who came up with the idea in the first place!” A butter knife appears in front of his nose, pointed with intent. Felix gives him the _you know we don’t talk about that in public within twenty miles of campus_ look. Sylvain sighs and leans back against the creaky vinyl of the corner booth. The butter knife is still there. He throws his hands up, shaking his head. “I know, I know, we don’t talk about that within twenty miles of campus. Sorry. But, hear the rest out, at least?” Felix swallows and puts the knife down, ignoring the way Sylvain’s eyes flick down to his Adam’s apple, because it’s not yet noon on the Sunday before finals, a fact that does absolutely nothing to help Sylvain’s case.

“Sylvain, I quit streaming. You know this.” Felix takes another pointed sip of coffee.

“I’m not asking you to start streaming again,” Sylvain huffs, sinking further into the booth seat. He’s uncharacteristically pouty, in the way he gets when he wants something from someone, an expression that Felix has long been immune to. Plus, his hair blends in with the awful cherry-red vinyl, so he looks (in Felix’s expert opinion) extra dumb. If he had a strategic bone in his body, he would’ve asked this of Felix, say, the night before last around, oh, one in the morning, when they were both sticky and sated and Felix might’ve been a little more open to outlandish ideas. But, instead, here they are in the corner of the 24-hour diner closest to campus at ten forty-three in the morning, arguing about whether or not Felix will let Sylvain record him getting pounded by the “all-new Robo Fuk Unisex Thrusting Machine” for an ad campaign, as though it’s the most casual thing in the world. To be honest, this isn’t the strangest argument they’ve had in this exact setting (sobriety notwithstanding, that title is reserved for the ongoing _if all of our friends were getting smashed by a tentacle monster, who would you be the least likely to save and why because you have to watch it happen, and no you can’t kill the monster Felix that defeats the point of this exercise, no it can’t be me either that’s cheating_ debate), but it’s certainly up there. Sylvain takes Felix’s sip as the go-ahead to continue. “And as sexy as you are, I don’t think it’s a get-rich-quick scheme, more a get-less-broke-in-the-immediate-future plan.” Felix glares at him but says nothing, and his butter knife assaults the pancakes. “It’s Claude’s idea, anyway, so blame him.”

“I’m sure you had nothing to do with it.” Sylvain smiles sheepishly and scratches a nonexistent itch behind his ear. _Cute,_ Felix thinks, and pushes the plate his way. Sylvain picks up his fork and cuts off a piece from the pancake Felix left deliberately without syrup. He definitely does not note the way Felix’s eyes track his tongue as he licks his lips for crumbs.

“Well, I won’t say I’m completely innocent, but for the most part, no, it was not my idea.” Claude, Dimitri’s fiancé and Sylvain’s manager at the sex shop Felix frequents, is known to be a purveyor of questionable ideas. He is completely shameless about his exploits, and as such inadvertently helped Felix become less self-conscious when he’d first started out as a camboy. Sometimes, Dimitri comes a few minutes late to their shared Monday eleven o’clock and sits down a bit more delicately than usual, and Felix knows he’ll be hearing from Sylvain about why once his shift is over. Sylvain scoots closer to the table and lowers his voice a little bit. “But it is _Claude,_ who gives me a run for my money as the king of consent, so he said that if you’re interested, he’ll let you check out the machine and the attachment the company wants used in the tape beforehand, and you can opt out anytime. He’ll, uh… work something out, if you use it and then tap. His words, not mine.” A waitress comes by their table with the check and some fresh coffee. “Come on, Fe. It’s _two thousand dollars,_ and Claude said we can keep the machine if we do this. We could write off rent for the next while! At least come look at the contract?” Felix dumps in two packets of creamer stares down into the mug as it swirls languidly.

On one hand, he would be dragging himself back towards the camboy lifestyle after three months of carefully disentangling the relationship between his finances and his hole now that he has a job lined up for postgrad. But, on the other hand… well. He shifts around on the vinyl, which squeaks under his thighs. Sylvain knows Felix has wanted to try this kind of thing for a while, but fuck machines are a pretty penny, and Felix knows that such a video would satisfy Sylvain’s voyeur streak, especially since he’s not streaming on the regular anymore. Plus, getting stretched out and rammed over and over and over by a nice, thick dildo at speeds that will knock him over and leave him piled on the bed, moaning with his face in the pillows and ass in the air and not being able to do anything but _take it_ until he’s cum all over himself and collapsed and seeing stars and even _then_ \- his dick twitches in interest, Felix blushes and palms at his neck, and Sylvain knows he’s won. The evil grin returns as Felix sets down his mug and fumbles around for his wallet in an almost-frantic way that only happens when he knows there’s something waiting once they leave. _Not bad for two grand,_ Felix grouses to himself.

“Fine. I’ll think about it.” He bites out, dropping some bills on the table as he stands to leave. Sylvain rises as well, leaving the rest of the money and enough for the tip. He bids goodbye to the waitstaff as he follows Felix’s heavy footsteps out the door and catches his hand as it shuts. Sylvain pulls him in close and slides his hand from Felix’s to tight around his waist, warm fingers tucking into the waistband of his joggers. Hot breath ghosts over Felix’s ear and down his neck.

“I’ll have to thank you properly once we get home,” Sylvain says. He glances at his watch. “And look, it’s not even noon!” If the tops of Felix’s cheeks get pinker as warmth pools in the base of his stomach, then that’s between him and their sheets.

Two hours and one shower find Felix and Sylvain going through the back door of the (closed on Sundays) Sexploratorium, where Claude is pouring over a multi-sheet packing slip. He’s got one hand splayed out on the counter, engagement ring glittering in the shop lighting, and a sharpie resting against his lips as he compares the list to the order statement he’s got pulled up on the computer next to him. Felix is reminded for neither the first nor last time why the entire campus has had it out for him at one point or another; for one, he’s blessed enough to have an amazing side profile, his thin beard (that would look downright stupid on anyone else) enhancing his already sharp jawline, with nice, broad shoulders, effortlessly tousled hair, a smooth voice, and a charming smile to boot. Felix had not been immune either, since he has eyes and a sex drive, but that had been quickly put to rest once Sylvain transferred in from wherever it was he had gone after his gap year, and by then anyone with a clue could have seen that Claude and Dimitri had their own thing going on. Soft music is tinkling out from the computer speakers, and it’s a little hard to navigate the narrow shop between the piles of shipping boxes stacked up here and there and the racks of clothes that populate the first floor. Some of the window displays have been pulled in for a good dusting as well. Dimitri is hauling in boxes from where they’ve been stacked outside. He looks good, _happy,_ Felix remarks, much less like the drowned rat he’d been emulating after high school. He smiles and waves, tapping Claude on the shoulder and retying his hair before heading back out for the rest of the shipment. Claude starts and drops the sharpie before looking up.

“Oh, hey guys!” He smiles and turns towards them. Sylvain throws a “Hey,” his way and Felix nods politely. As they approach the counter, Claude’s expression drops to something a little more mischievous and he opens a drawer in the file cabinet underneath the cash register. “I figured you might swing by.” He pulls out a thin stapled packet and drops it in front of where Sylvain has rested his elbows. “I trust Sylvain has brought this up with you?” Felix nods and grabs the papers, flipping through them. Claude goes back to the packing slip with much less focus. “Well, it’s pretty standard. Two grand, and they want a twenty-minute clip with at least ten of those minutes actively using the machine. You can use either the fleshlight attachment or the dildo, but I don’t think it’d be much of a stretch to say you’d rather the latter, yeah?” The tips of Felix’s ears turn a delicate pink. He nods. “Mhm. Take a look through that on your own- it seems to me like everything is all well and good, and the only clothing restrictions seem to be that they don’t want any full-latex suits. I’m sure mister big-shot law school would be willing to give it a read as well if you want.” Claude gestures in Dimitri’s general direction. He trails a finger down the list he’s looking at. “Ah! And it looks like everything for that came in with this shipment, so you can get your hands on it.” If he had glasses, he’d be looking at Felix and Sylvain over the top of them. “Although, things would go much faster if we had some help with the unloading.” He hands Felix a box cutter and Sylvain a pair of scissors.

Of course, the machine and the attachments were in the very last box opened (something told Felix that Claude knew that would happen, but he let it slide), not that it wasn’t exciting seeing the breadth of items carried at the shop. Sylvain had opened a box with a half-dozen absolutely monstrous dildos that looked more like traffic cones than sex toys, and Dimitri had cracked the shipment of adult baby onesies with a pained expression, asking Claude why in God’s name they carried these.

“Dude, we sell nipple clamps with tiny buckets attached, everything you could ever need for entry-level needleplay, whatever those weapons of war are that I just opened, spanking paddles with boot treads and seven different brands of gag balls, but it’s the onesies that get you?” Sylvain had remarked, and everyone laughed. But now, while Sylvain and Claude are hiking everything up to the third-floor storage (all the fun stuff is on the second level, as the sign pointing up the very narrow stairs tells customers), Felix and Dimitri are investigating the contents of the last box after having taken the cardboard out to the recycling. Before them are three boxes, one with the machine itself and two with the attachments. The fuck machine is heavier than Felix thought it would have been, since it wasn’t the as-seen-in-porn mechanical rig, but it has to be weighty enough that it can stand its ground while slamming into someone. _Slamming into me,_ he thinks, and snorts. Dimitri hands him the box with the dildo the company wants to be used in the video.

“Serious business,” he quips, absentmindedly twisting his ring, staring blankly at a rack of corsets. Felix makes a _yeah, sure_ type noise, but rethinks that non-statement after he takes a good look at what he’s holding. It’s serious business indeed, a seven-inch long and two-inch thick block of beige and pinkish silicone that is unmistakably a dick, rather than one of the other brightly colored toys that lend themselves to the idea of a phallus than a straight-up penis the company makes. Where there would typically be a suction cup at the base, there is instead a sizable hole where it attaches to the machine, and _oh,_ Felix sucks in a breath, there’s a little tube for fake cum, and a correlating hole at the tip of the dildo. _They really want the whole nine yards, huh._ “Serious business.” Felix agrees. There’s a stirring in the pit of his stomach, and he wills the heat blooming across the tops of his thighs and through his lower abdomen to _give it a rest, dammit._ He stacks the dildo box on top of the fuck machine and grabs two bottles from underneath the counter (one lube and one fake cum), adding them to the pile. He snatches the contract and smacks it against Dimitri’s chest, who takes it gingerly into a very large hand. “Here,” Felix says, “Read this and tell me if there’s anything suspicious.”

That night, in a bout of procrastination on his _Equalities and Inequalities in Socio-Political Histories_ final paper, Felix decides to do a little research. The tape he’s probably going to be submitting (since Dimitri didn’t find any funny business in the contract) is for the second generation of this fuck machine, so it stands to reason that there was an ad for the first release. After double-checking that his headphones are connected to his laptop, he heads for the bedroom and plops down on top of the sheets that Sylvain had changed not an hour before in a journey to stave off studying for his astrophysics final. He opens up an incognito tab on Chrome, and gets googling. He finds the ad on the company website easy enough, underneath a banner advertising the upcoming new-and-improved version, set for release at a whopping seven hundred dollars. _Damn,_ thinks Felix. He presses play on the ad. It’s a compilation of clips from different videos with a stereotypical female pornstar voiceover, listing off stats that appear on the screen about maximum thrusts per minute and advocating for its discreetness and promising mind-blowing orgasms to a backing track of seedy jazz sprinkled in with wanton moaning. It’s only a minute long, give or take, and Felix is about to grumble _then what the hell did I come all this way for_ about his trek from the sofa to the bed when the video announces that the full versions of all the clips are in the product description. So, in the pursuit of knowledge, he scrolls down and examines his options. There are a couple clips with women listed first that he skims right past, followed by a short, muscular person with a shock of blue hair who is making great use of the fleshlight attachment, a dom/sub pair of a fit, freckled man with long, wavy hair dressed in a riding outfit (complete with crop) holding the face of a frighteningly pale, quite thin man, completely naked with his cherry-red ass getting absolutely demolished by the machine, which was closer to but not quite what Felix was looking for. The second to last listed ends up being the most useful to Felix. It features another camboy, one that he recognizes, who goes by the user _lockpick_ , but Felix knows his name is actually Ashe from talking to him every so often over twitter. He clicks on it.

Ashe’s setup is pretty standard. He’s in a room with grey walls, sitting on a daybed with deep red sheets and plenty of matching red pillows to prop himself up on. Little fairy lights are wound around the bed frame, and they twinkle every so often. The fuck machine is on a table at the end of the bed, but the dildo is lying against Ashe’s thigh. He’s got on a little pair of black spandex booty shorts and a mostly open floaty white top that just barely clings to his shoulders; when he shifts, it drifts even farther open to tease at revealing a pert, pink nipple for a split second before hiding it away again. His silvery hair is tucked delicately behind one of his ears, and his dainty hands are roaming his body, smoothing down his thighs and travelling up to rub at his neck. He holds a hand to his mouth, pretending to think about something before moving on. A fingertip catches his pink, plump bottom lip on its way elsewhere and it bounces very attractively, full and inviting, and then the tip of the dildo is being brought to it. Felix feels his dick twitch, and he snakes a hand down to press against it. His hips cant up slightly when Ashe goes down on the dildo. _Not so fast,_ he tells himself, _there’s still eighteen minutes left._

According to the dimensions listed on the website, the toy he’s using isn’t quite as big as the one sitting in Felix’s living room, but the dildo is fucking huge compared to Ashe. It stretches his full lips thin as he bobs up and down, and he can only take it about halfway before choking and pulling back to suckle at the pink silicone tip. Globs of saliva dribble down towards the base and Ashe pulls off with a lewd _pop!_ to catch them with his tongue. The dildo is practically as big as his head, but he takes it like a champ, tilting his head up with his palm flat against the hilt as he slides it down his throat with a full moan reverberating around it, like some kind of camboy sword-swallower. Felix groans. His dick is now genuinely interested, and he palms it idly, slipping his hand into his pants. He gives it a few loose strokes, breathing heavy.

On screen, there are tears in the corners of Ashe’s eyes as he pulls the dildo out from where it was lodged in his mouth and fits it onto the fuck machine. The fairy lights reflect off of where it glistens with spit. Ashe stands, ridding himself of his shirt, and the hard outline of his cock is clearly visible through the barely-there dance shorts he’s got on. He turns around, smiling over his shoulder, and closes his eyes as he shimmies them down around his round little ass, smattered with freckles as all of him is, and lets them drop down from around his smooth, creamy thighs. He drags his nails up the sensitive backs of his legs, leaving little red lines in their wake (fuck, if Felix didn’t want to be the one doing that instead) before bending over and spreading himself for the camera. Predictably, there’s a little red gem nestled between his cheeks, and he gives his ass a halfhearted smack before reaching back to pull at the plug. It slips out easily, and Ashe lets out a soft _oh_ as it does, more of a sigh than anything, biting his red, spit-slick bottom lip as he thrusts it back in and out. He leans forward to rest a hand on the sheets and arches his back, maintaining eye contact, his little _ah, ah, ah’s_ growing steadily louder. Felix grits his teeth and grips at his cock in earnest, giving it some rough, dry pumps. He swipes his thumb over the head, spreading some precum down the shaft, and shivers. _Fuck._

When Felix looks back up, Ashe has moved back onto the bed, plug nowhere to be seen. He’s on his knees, slicking up the dildo on the fuck machine ( _oh, right._ Felix thinks, because he’d entirely forgotten that he was supposed to be doing “research”), both hands moving up and down as he licks at the tip. He pulls back and wipes the excess lube on his hole and spreads for the camera one more time. It trembles, wet and glistening and clenching around nothing, and it’s obvious that Ashe is getting desperate. His cheeks are bright pink and his eyes are hazy, his mouth open with a little bit of tongue peeking out. As he shifts to line himself up with the machine, a bead of precum rolls down his achingly hard cock and he whines. He pushes the tip of the dildo in, mouth dropping open, and fumbles with the speed dial where it’s nestled among the pillows.

There’s a click and a whir, and the fuck machine starts up, pushing the dildo into Ashe with some effort, but in it goes. It sinks to the base and pulls out again, nice and slow so he can feel every little silicone vein and ridge as it slides out until just the tip is still in him before pushing forward again, and Ashe looks like he’s been hit by lightning. His eyes flutter and roll, his mouth opens in a perfect ‘o’ as the dildo stuffs him full. It hits home a second time, and he falls forward into a pile of pillows with a loud, reverberating _aahhhnnn_ that Felix feels go straight downwards. The camera angle changes from a side view to a backshot where the machine is going in and out and in and out and in and out center screen. Ashe kicks the speed up a notch and moans even louder, _ah, ah, ahs_ becoming a long, drawn-out _oh, yeses_ and _fuck mes_ as he shakes under the pressure of being filled so completely again and again and again. Felix pumps desperately at his cock, grunting under his breath, feeling himself come close to the precipice, but not quite there yet and then- _oh._

The machine doesn’t stop as creamy white starts leaking out of Ashe. He wails, keens as the fake cum drips down the inside of his legs, down from where he’s being slammed into relentlessly onto the red comforter and Felix comes, hard, spilling all over his knuckles and inside his pants. He tears himself away from the screen, panting and staring up at the peeling paint on his ceiling. On his laptop, Ashe is screaming and moaning his pleasure for all that he’s worth for not but a few moments longer before he too comes, further soiling the comforter and falling forward off the dildo with a horrible _squelch_. He stops the machine and simply lays there for a few moments, catching his breath with his hole still leaking. The dildo drips idly with a filthy, whitish mix of lube and fake cum and Ashe. Eventually, he sits up looking a satisfied mess, tear tracks running down his cheeks and a sleepy smile on his face as he wholeheartedly endorses the product. Felix snaps his laptop shut with his clean hand and rips his headphones out. He goes to the bathroom, washes his hands, and changes into a different pair of lounge pants before marching out. He feels antsy, like there’s an electric current running just under his skin, except it leads to a malcontented knot at the pit of his stomach.

“Sylvain.” He says, ponytail still mussed and cheeks still flushed. Sylvain blinks up from his textbook. He’s sitting at their tiny little table, where he’s made himself a nest of notes and books and academic misery.

“Yeah?”

“I’m definitely taking that contract.” Felix’s shoulders are tense.

“Oh, yeah?” Sylvain smiles, small and heartfelt. Felix’s heart does a flip inside his chest. “I’m glad. I think you’ll have fun! And, you know, two grand never really hurt anybody.” Sylvain reaches up and pulls Felix down to plant a soft kiss on his cheek, running a hand through his hair and taking out the tie before gently pushing at Felix’s shoulders so that he turns around to sit on the floor at his feet. Sylvain’s fingers scratch gently down his scalp as they comb out the knots, doing away with Felix’s anxieties and natural rigidity and leaving in their place a warm, tingly feeling. Deft hands make quick work of a braid and secure it with the velveteen ribbon Felix has been using as a hair tie lately. Sylvain drops a kiss to the crown of his head, murmuring. “Let’s not worry about it until after finals, yeah? The video doesn’t have to be in for three weeks yet. We have time, babe. Don’t worry.”

Felix leans back against Sylvain’s leg, warm and happy and… tired. He’d been unreasonably anxious about this whole thing, but he knows it’s really uncertainties about finals and graduation and god knows what else. His eyes start to drift closed. Sylvain says something and Felix isn’t sure what, but next thing he knows he’s being swept off the ground and into their bed. He doesn’t let go when Sylvain tries to pull away to go back to his studying, and Sylvain relents since he was already in his sleepwear anyway, and who was he to deny a soft, pliant, sleepy Felix? He is only a man, and so he tucks both of them under the covers, turns out the light, and falls asleep with his chin resting gently atop Felix’s head. Felix falls asleep to the lullaby of Sylvain’s heartbeat, thoughts drifting to the small pile of boxes in the corner by the TV set.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felix films a video.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if last chap was incorrigibly horny then this one is reprehensibly so :) also it occurred to me that i was Quite influenced by [this tweet ](https://twitter.com/sawat___t/status/1257698225303154688?s=21)(very nsfw) even tho the depicted events do not actually happen. thank u twitter user @/sawaT___T for ur unintended hand in this

The opportunity presents itself about two weeks later, once everyone’s everything has been turned in and after the post-finals parties have calmed down. It’s a lazy Tuesday afternoon. Felix is tucked between Sylvain’s legs on their sofa, back pressed to his chest, scrolling aimlessly through his phone. Sylvain has taken out Felix’s ponytail, and is mindlessly running his fingers through soft locks with one hand and has a book open in the other. Every so often, he pauses to turn the page before his hand gravitates back to Felix’s scalp. Sunlight filters in through the windows to pool across them both, and everything is mellow, warm, content. Felix turns over with a grunt to face the TV. The boxes are still there, just… sitting. Waiting. He stares at them for a long moment, and his thoughts wander to the video of Ashe, to those creamy, white thighs, how _big_ it had looked compared to his little pink mouth, to his littler, pinker hole, to the his face when it pushed in for the first time and those wanton, whining sounds when it had really picked up and… well. A familiar tightness idly makes itself known.

"Thinking about those boxes, Fe?” Sylvain says, deep and rumbling. It reverberates where Felix is pressed up against him. He shivers and tilts his head back to look at Sylvain, who is staring down at him with mischief swimming in his gaze, a lazy (sexy, admits Felix, but he’d show his professors what he used to do outside of class before he’d tell Sylvain that) smile slowly spreading across his face. The hand in Felix’s hair squeezes just so, and his mouth falls the tiniest bit open. The tightness becomes more insistent.

“Maybe,” he sighs. The hand in his hair guides him up. They’re chest to chest now, and Sylvain grinds his hips upwards, pushing a long exhale out of Felix, who turns to allow him to tuck his nose under the curve of his jaw.

“Why don’t you go get cleaned up then,” Felix can feel the grin against his neck, and groans when Sylvain bites down gently on his ear, “and I’ll set everything up in the stream room, hm?” Felix looks back down at Sylvain, to where his dark hair is pooling on Sylvain’s collarbone, fading marks peeking through, to the curve of his lips and the points of his teeth, how inviting they all are. Everything about Sylvain says _stay, kiss me, we can just be here in this moment_ , but Felix knows that they have all the time in the world between the two of them and only a few more days for this. So, he pushes himself up and off, using Sylvain’s chest as leverage if only to feel him solid beneath his hands and to hear him go _oof_ , and makes for the shower. His knees pop and his back cracks. For a split second he feels bad about what he’s about to put his body through, but then he finds himself under a spray of boiling-hot water and all thoughts leave his mind. He covers all the bases- hair and face masks, he scrubs, shaves, and exfoliates every inch of his body, makes sure to clean in back of his ears and under his nails. He pops out forty-five minutes later in a cloud of lavender steam, smooth, soft, moisturized, and perfectly sulliable. Sylvain has laid an outfit out on their bed. There’s a billowing white shirt cut with a deep v-neck that goes down to just above his navel- it has a litany of tiny white buttons, but why would he close it- a pair of teeny-tiny black shorts with imitation garters, and the thick strip of black lace he always uses as something of a mask. At the height of his streaming he had a couple that he would rotate, but this one, an intricate floral mesh that was just opaque enough that the viewer could not see through it but just transparent enough that he could see most anything quite clearly, has always been his favorite. It’s begun to wear around the edges from being washed so many times. So, he slips into the clothes so lovingly presented for him, leaving the buttons down his front and on the cuffs of his shirt undone, leaves his hair down, pulls on the shorts, which bite into his thighs just so, takes the strip of lace in one hand and heads out.

The room Felix used to stream is not unlike the one Ashe was set up in. It was originally sold to them as a guest bedroom, but it’s really a glorified closet that he’s stuffed an XL twin daybed into. There are a couple of softboxed lights set up around the bed so he’s constantly illuminated in, well, a soft, flattering light that lends itself to the daydream ideal he’d wanted to present, and three cameras (which he invested quite a bit of money into, thank you _very_ much) are positioned around, one at the head, one at the foot, and one straight on. The comforter is a cool gray, and the many pillows he has tucked about to display himself on are a deep blue. There’s a hearty little space heater on the far wall that has done more overtime than could possibly be accounted for, and a blue neon sign that says _Dagger_ across the wall the bed sits against. Underneath the bed is a box full of fun and interesting things- ropes, beads, plugs, clamps, paddles, you name it- and Sylvain has kindly set up the fuck machine on a table at the foot of the bed where the apparatus itself will be out of frame from a backshot. The dildo, opened and washed, is at the head of the bed, along with a fresh bottle of lube. The white dollop at the very head of the toy tells Felix that it’s been filled with its charge. It’s quite a nice room as far as camboy setups go, Felix thinks, and the number of tips per stream led him to believe that his audience had wholeheartedly agreed. Sylvain rests his head on Felix’s shoulder while he speaks, nose pressed into his pulse point, drinking him in. It’s familiar, comforting in the heat it sends spiraling through him.

“I was thinking, we could just have all three cameras going at the same time, and then I could edit it and send it out?” Sylvain asks, moving to kiss down the column of his neck, sending sparks down Felix’s spine and settling in the pit of his stomach. He sighs and leans back, tilting his head to give Sylvain better access.

“Yeah, alright. Don’t fuck it up, though.” He breathes out, no bite behind his words. Sylvain laughs, rumbling and deep and sexy and if Felix couldn’t admit to wanting to abandon all of this and pouncing on him in that moment then he would never be able to face himself again, and palms his ass through the ridiculous little shorts, snapping one of the faux-garters and sending a delicious tendril of pain up the inside of his thigh.

“I would never dare do you such a disservice, _Dagger_ ,” he growls into Felix’s clavicle, worrying his teeth on the delicate skin left exposed by his barely-there shirt. “We still have to get you ready, don’t we?” Felix lets himself be crowded towards the bed, Sylvain warm and insistent behind him. He turns and sits, the softness of the comforter welcome against his smooth legs. They’ve done this before, where Sylvain preps Felix for a stream, if something new or something large is going to be tried out. He leans back on his hands, allowing his shirt to fall open and partway off a shoulder just to see the way Sylvain drags his eyes over his collarbone, over the little bits of pink that mar the perfect skin. Driving Sylvain crazy like this, he admits, is by far his favorite thing to do. Sylvain leans over, crowds into Felix’s space, hands squeezing just below the garter. He smells of cinnamon and musk, Felix notes, and then Sylvain kisses him deeply. When they had first started to get together, each scrappy, belligerent midnight tryst would leave both of them scratched and bruised and bitten and wanting. Nowadays, they know what they like and are clever about when to employ the tactics that colored their beginnings, so Felix lets Sylvain kiss him, lets him lick and claim and clack their teeth together before he pulls away to lie fully on the bed with his arms up, crossed at the wrists above his head and lips parted just so, hair fanned out and chest exposed. He knows what he looks like- he’s seen his own tapes. He knows the blush that ghosts over the tops of his cheeks, he knows the inviting curve of his own neck and the taunting slick of spit that covers his flushed lips. He knows he’s pretty, and he knows how to use it, so it’s no surprise when Sylvain’s hands find his hips and give a squeeze that straddles the line between too much and not enough. What does come as a surprise, though, is when Sylvain reaches up and underneath one of the pillows at the top of the bed to pull out a plug that Felix has never seen before. The silver of its stainless-steel body and the royal blue gem set in its flared end match the room perfectly.

“I got this last week just for you,” Sylvain says, voice gritty and low, “gotta make sure you’re stretched nice and wide so you can take it.” Felix’s lips part in a little _oh_. He shifts to sit atop Felix’s hips, where he can feel Felix’s insistent cock against him and rests the tip of the plug on the pillow of Felix’s plush bottom lip. “Open up.” The cold, tangy taste of metal spreads through his mouth and up into his nose as he struggles to take it in, stretching his lips around it and jaw popping with how wide it’s open- he’s got to look like Ashe did at the beginning of his video. It’s not particularly long, but it’s _thick_ , probably about the same width as the dildo laying idle beside his head. He whines, grinds his hips up into Sylvain, finding sweet friction. If the plug is stretching him out like this, he thinks, running his tongue over the tip and trying in vain to take it deeper, then… He shudders, every nerve in his body buzzing with arousal and tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. He stays like that, mouth full of metal and head full of cock, grabbing at the pillow above him and moaning around the plug until he’s getting desperate- it’s not enough, just to have his mouth full, and he grinds his hips up again, needy, wanting. Only then does Sylvain pull the plug, leaving Felix panting, lips parted, a thin line of spittle connecting the tip of his tongue to the tip of the toy. It breaks, and Felix swallows, and he needs that plug in his ass _yesterday_.

“Sylvain,” he whines, hazy and just short of a moan, because he’s hard and his breathing is heavy and he wants and he _needs_ \- he reaches a hand for where Sylvain is sat atop his hips to pull him down and kiss him or shove him off so that he can flip over and get his fingers in his ass or just do _something_ , but Sylvain catches his wrist and presses a kiss to the inside of it. The small, loving moment steadies Felix on the line between boiling over and floating off. 

“Hey, now,” he says, “come back to me.” He lifts up off of Felix, placing the plug by the wayside for the moment. He tangles one hand with Felix’s and places the other palm against his cheek, running his thumb back and forth, laughing gently when Felix tries to take it into his mouth. Sylvain drops down to kiss him long and slow, languid, until he feels Felix return to a gentle simmer. As much as he wants to indulge, to feel Felix’s tight, wet heat around his cock and lay into him until he’s lost himself in the pleasure, moaning with abandon until he tightens and cums and goes boneless underneath him, he knows they can do that any day and for now the goal is to open up Felix, to prep him for the monstrous dildo he’s going to take. So, instead of taking Felix in hand and really ramping it all up, he pulls back to indulge for a moment in Felix’s beauty, his sharp angles and cutting words enhanced by the blush riding high on his cheeks and out to the tips of his ears, those plush, inviting, pink lips he’s spent hours getting to know the ins and outs of that now part to allow the sweetest little _ah,_ to pass through when he moves to palm Felix’s ass through his shorts. Even through all that, they’re both still clothed. “Can I take these off?” He asks. Felix huffs, nods, and Sylvain drops them on the floor. He smooths his hands back up and pushes gently at his knees. They spread. He leaves a trail of wet, open-mouthed kisses up the inside of his thigh, stopping just before Felix’s leaking cock. “On your stomach for me?” He says. Felix turns over on the soft comforter, gathers a pillow underneath his head and arches his back to expertly display himself. Even flipped over, his cock stands against his stomach, smearing precum. He feels hot breath against his hole, and he bites his lip in anticipation.

“Just look at you,” Sylvain says, each word landing as a hot puff right where he’s most sensitive, “So tight.” He rubs a finger against the twitching skin- _when did he slick his fingers up?_ Felix wonders. The finger slips in, and he inhales sharply. It slides in and out, slow, teasing. Felix can hear the smile in his voice. “All worked up over just this… I wonder if you’ll even make it to the machine?” Two fingers, now. They move with a little more purpose. His grip on the pillows tightens. “I can’t wait to see you take it… It’ll be like two of me at once.” Felix shivers and moans. A drop of precum lands on the comforter when he considers the thought of not one, but _two_ Sylvains, stuffing him full and taking control- a notion just as hot as it is ridiculous. He barely notices the third finger. “Oh? You like that, do you?” He can feel the infuriatingly smug smile as Sylvain presses searing kisses along the base of his spine. He’s a little mad about the whine it pulls from him. “There’s an idea. Two cocks at once- split you open and fill you up.”

“Syl _vain!_ ” Felix cries, embarrassed, pushing back against his fingers, trying against his better judgement to find that spot that will make him scream. Sylvain tightens his grip on Felix’s hip to steady him, pulling two fingers out and lazily pumping one. The emptiness is miserable and maddening, his cock is _so_ hard, and he feels like if he doesn’t get something- the plug, Sylvain’s fingers, that dildo, Sylvain, fuck, _anything_ in him posthaste then he will cry. Sylvain presses against his back, shoving his shirt (because he still has that on and _fuck,_ he still has to film a cam session) farther up his chest and speaking lowly into his ear. His warm, sturdy weight is welcome and allows Felix to claw his way back from the edge for the second time.

“What do you want?” Sylvain asks, introducing another finger back into Felix, who groans and turns his head. He’s always hated saying exactly what he wants, but he knows he must swallow his pride if he is to swallow anything else later down the line.

“…more,” he mumbles. “Please.” He tacks on, because he knows the noise it will draw from Sylvain and the heat it will send through him. Sylvain responds the way Felix thought he would, and crooks his fingers.

“More what? More fingers, or something else?” Sylvain says, still in his ear. He plants a kiss on the top of his shoulder. _Damn you,_ thinks Felix, and he tries to say it, but all that comes out is a broken moan.

“…plug.” He says into the pillow.

“You know the rules, Fe. Say it clearly.” Sylvain murmurs, not unkindly. Felix grumbles into the blue of the pillow cover and turns his head. Sylvain meets his eyes and god, the way he looks at Felix is everything he’s ever cared about even when he’s having trouble saying _stuff my ass with that butt plug so I can be safely ready to get fucked by a machine with a dildo that could kill a lesser man_ \- it’s almost too much.

“I want the plug, Sylvain. Please.” Sylvain smiles, small and true, and says his thanks into the crook of Felix’s neck, sealing it with a kiss. He travels back down Felix’s body, slipping his fingers out and in their place arrives a slick, smooth, rounded tip, making slow circles around where it needs to go. Felix sucks in a breath. God, he wants this.

“Ready?”

“Yes.”

Sylvain gently pushes in the plug, and Felix moans in satisfaction. It’s long and _thick_ and slides in with ease thanks to Sylvain’s meticulous preparation, nestling the dark blue gem in between his cheeks. Sylvain, with his clean hand, gently turns Felix back over, taking care to see he doesn’t jostle the plug much. Felix looks a _wreck_ \- his bangs are askew on his forehead, his lashes clumped together with unshed tears, swollen lips parted and breathing heavy. There’s a trail of precum that runs up his stomach from where it’d leaked out of his cock before dribbling onto the comforter. It’s time to film.

The next however-many minutes are split between fixing Felix back up, straightening out the room, and setting the cameras to record. Pretty much all of this is done by Sylvain (and how he manages it, Felix really doesn’t know, because he must also be hard as a damn rock) because whenever Felix moves, so does the plug, and there is two thousand dollars riding on Felix not spilling too soon. So, Sylvain bustles about, ignoring the tent in his pants, and the most Felix does is brush his hair before picking up his lace from where it had fallen on the floor in all the excitement. Sylvain flips on the neon _Dagger_ sign and Felix sits delicately on the daybed, freshly re-made, running his thumbs over the soft fabric in his hands. Sylvain stands in front of him and gently tilts his chin up.

“Ready?” Felix nods. “Words, Felix.”

“Ready.”

“You know we can stop any time, right? You know what to say.” Felix knows.

“I know.”

“Alright,” Sylvain says, and kisses him sweetly. Felix chases his lips just a little when they part. Sylvain takes the lace from Felix’s hands and wraps it around his eyes, tying it in a double-knotted bow at the back of his head. He runs a finger underneath to check that it isn’t too tight. “Good?” Felix blinks underneath it, adjusting. He can still see, but his vision is full of little black dots, as though he’d been staring at the sun.

“Good.” He says. Sylvain kisses him again, a _you’ll do great_ left against his lips, and moves back behind the cameras. Felix sees three red lights, hears Sylvain say they’re rolling, and thus begins the show.

Felix wouldn’t say that he becomes someone else for the camera. He just plays up his natural tendencies; if he would just sigh at something, he instead gives a breathy _ah,_ or moans. He plays with his hair more, arches his back a little further, leans into the fantasy. Going through the motions of the first part is easy, practiced; he follows the same steps Ashe had (because what else would he have done, really, since he isn’t prepping himself from scratch on camera) and adds his own special touches, like letting some of the fake cum loaded into the dildo drip down his clavicle, makes good use of the fake garters on his shorts, leaves a bright red handprint on his own ass. His jaw aches when he tries to take the dildo down, it tastes like a plastic spoon and the fake cum is foul, but the heat of the stretch and the image of what he must look like go straight to his cock. He coughs when he comes up for air, drool and fake cum sullying his chin. The whole time, he can see Sylvain behind the camera, occasionally reaching down to palm himself through his sweatpants (which have a dark spot on the front, thank you _very_ much), but mostly making sure everything is running smoothly. Felix affixes the dildo to the machine and lubes it until it’s dripping, staining the bed. He knows it’s too much, but that’s the point. He catches some of the excess on his palm and wipes it over his fluttering hole after a few last pumps of the plug, spreads himself again for the camera, and moves to line his ass up. The pink head of the dildo is cold and wet and _big_ against him. Nervous excitement, the likes of which he hasn’t felt since the first time he streamed, fills his stomach. He grabs a pillow, shoves it beneath him, and fits the tip in. It stretches his rim wide, and his mouth drops open as he sinks a little farther down, _ah, ah ah’s_ punching out. He reaches for the speed dial, turns it to the lowest setting, and sees stars.

It _burns._ The plug had done its job well, but nothing could prepare him for the way it just keeps going in, reaching deep, seemingly infinite before it finally bottoms out. It pushes into him with a steady power, forcing loud, honest moans to tear themselves from his throat. It hits his prostate dead-on each time, sending wave after wave of pleasure coursing through him, splitting him open and he can feel every silicone ridge, each false vein, as it drags in and out and in and out and a slow _click… click… click._ The burn fades into a delicious heat that spurs him to knock the speed up a notch, then two, then three, and screams his pleasure. “Oh, _fuck!_ ” he cries. He falls forward, spit pooling on the bed, he can feel tears start to make their way down his cheeks and he can’t do anything except lie there and _take it_ and he’s racing towards the precipice at a breakneck pace and if someone so much as _breathed_ on his cock he’d cum right then and there. He’s fuller than he’s ever been, entirely lost in the feeling, the pleasure, reaching back to grab his ass and spread it so the machine has an even more direct target and, god, he _loves it,_ he loves being bent over and busted open and it can’t get any better than this and then- Felix’s mouth drops open and he throws his head back with a _fuck me!_ that bounces off the cam-room walls as he feels the fake cum shoot up into him. The machine just keeps _going_. The noise becomes downright obscene, squelching horribly, and Felix is so, so full that he can’t take any more and it leaks out from him and down his thighs. He’s moaning uncontrollably, filthy and beautiful.

He screams, shaking like a leaf as he comes harder than he has in a long time. For a moment, it’s too much because the machine doesn’t stop when he spends and tightens, so he pops off frantically and slows the machine back down to zero, but not before it’d sent drops of charge all over everything. Felix just lays on his pillows for a moment, breathing, as the lewd combination of fake cum and lube continues to leak out, his puffy, abused rim clenching around nothing. He gathers what’s left of his strength, sits up, endorses the product to the camera, and the next instant everything is off, and the blindfold is gone, Sylvain ready with a warm washcloth and a blanket to wrap him up in once he’s clean.

Felix is boneless, breathing still heavy, pliant as Sylvain moves to wipe him up as best he can, filling the air with sweet nothings about how well he did, how good he’s been, about how proud he is and how lucky he is to have him. He bundles Felix in the ridiculously big, supremely soft blanket reserved exclusively for after intense sessions, either on camera or just between them, and whisks him off to their bed where they lay together, warm and happy, and Felix comes back down from his post-orgasm high.

“Hey,” Sylvain says, once Felix starts to move. Felix buries his head in Sylvain’s shoulder, groaning. He takes the glass of water offered to him and sips on it delicately. He doesn’t think he’ll be able to walk much of anywhere in the near future.

“Everything hurts.”

“Did you have fun?”

“…yes.”

“Good. Would you do it again?”

“…yes.”

“Do you want me to run a bath?”

“Yes.”

“Should I thank Claude when I see him tomorrow?”

Felix glowers at him, and Sylvain knows he’s back. He laughs and pulls himself from the soured little cocoon beside him and makes for the bathroom. “Better yet, thank him yourself!” A pillow hits him square in the back of the head.

“Two cocks? Really, Sylvain?” He calls out twenty minutes later from underneath a mound of bubbles. Sylvain laughs from where he’s meticulously folding laundry in their bedroom.

“I mean, I said it in the heat of the moment, but you know I’m up for anything.” He calls back. Felix grumbles something about how he’s never heard something so dumb in his damn life, but files the idea for a rainy day.

If the next time Felix finds himself at the Sexploratorium on a Sunday, whether or not he quietly asks Dimitri about the craziest thing Claude had suggested to him is between the two of them and the corset rack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow thank u so much for reading! as always drop a mf kudo if u liked it and please leave suggestions for what else youd like to see me write either within this universe or otherwise. my everlasting love and thanks to my boy eli for test reading this even tho he knows not of 3h. im homiesexual for u
> 
> i can be found on [twitter ](https://twitter.com/mysterymistakes)


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